


Tough cookies don't crumble

by seratonation



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Baking, Bucky is better, Domestic Avengers, Gen, Post-Canon, Sam Needs A Hug, Self-Indulgent, Stress Baking, Talking, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:30:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4829213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seratonation/pseuds/seratonation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam bakes, Bucky worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tough cookies don't crumble

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote a thing in reply to [this post](http://pansxualbarnes.tumblr.com/post/126705145340/i-really-imagine-sam-wilson-to-be-a-stress-baker) that said Sam is a stress baker, because domesticity and I’ve long day at work but it got away from me. 
> 
> What better way to relieve stress then to write about other people being stressed? :P

Everyone knew Sam’s coping mechanism was baking. Tony had his lab, Steve liked to obliterate punching bags, Bruce had yoga and Sam baked. 

Bucky himself was fond of video games but at least Sam’s thing was productive. He'd told Bucky that it helped to make something when he was feeling useless. 

Today however, he’d woken up at dawn to find that Sam was already in the kitchen, half way through a batch of cookies, while another tray was cooling. Bucky did a mental count; no one was on missions, his mom had been back home from the hospital for two weeks and was getting better, and he hadn’t mentioned any work related problems. 

He approached carefully, making sure he was heard. “Morning,” he said, standing at the edge of the kitchen.

“Morning,” Sam replied, not looking up. 

Bucky hesitated. What was it that Steve used to say? “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No,” Sam said. 

“Okay,” he replied. He grabbed a warm cookie and stuffed into his mouth. 

Sam gave him a reproachful look but Bucky shrugged, mouth too full to defend himself. Instead he started on breakfast, making sure to work around Sam so he doesn’t get in his way.

By the time he was done, he’d decided to go for a run, and went to wake Steve up to come with him. 

“Sam is baking,” he told Steve on their way back. 

“I noticed,” Steve replied, hands on his knees. 

“Do you know what’s wrong?”

Steve shook his head, standing up. “He hasn’t said anything to me.”

Bucky nodded, then looked down the track. “You tired already? You’re gonna let an old man beat you?”

Steve shoved at Bucky and broke into a run again. 

He laughed and chased after Steve. This, at least, was easy.

***

When they got back, Sam was still at it, so they let him be and decided to put on a movie instead. Natasha and Clint joined them and when it was over Natasha dragged him along while she did some grocery shopping. 

“Do you-”

“No,” she said, pushing the shopping cart down the aisle.

“You didn't let me finish,” he said, trailing after her.

“I know what you’re going to ask and the answer is no,” she said, looking up at the higher shelves. 

“You can’t know,” he said. 

“Sure I do,” she said, and pointed at a box of tea on the highest shelf, “get two, I’m running an experiment.”

He reached for them easily and tossed them into the cart. She rolled her eyes at his despondent pout and sighed. “Fine,” she said, “go ahead, ask me.”

“Do you know why Sam is baking,” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, “and no, I’m not going to tell.”

“Natasha,” he whined.

“It’s not my secret to tell,” she said, “and you know I’m the best at keeping secrets.”

“Did he tell you?” he asked, once they started moving again.

“No,” she said, “I did a little digging.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Don't give me that look,”she said, “I needed to make sure he wasn't in any trouble.”

“And?”

“He’s fine,” she assured him, “nothing some baking can’t sort out.”

“But-”

“Look, if you’re so worried just talk to him,” she said, “now let’s go, there’s some pasta in the next aisle I want you to get.”

***

Bucky avoided it for as long as he could but when Sam was still in the kitchen after dinner Bucky joined him. 

He found Sam sitting on the floor watching the oven as the last batch was baking. Bucky sank down next to him, his back against the cupboard doors. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked again.

Sam sighed and hugged his knees. “Riley died five years ago today,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, unsure of what else to say. In the grand scheme of things he was the one being lost, and Steve never really talked about that time, at least, not to Bucky.

“I thought I was fine, I could see the day coming and,” he shook his head, “I woke up this morning and I couldn't breathe.”

“Maybe you should’ve talked to someone,” Bucky said. 

“Nah,” Sam said, shrugging, “I did all my talking, I’m all talked out.”

“But this is good?” Bucky asked, “You feel better?”

“You know what? I do,” he said, “but I don’t know what I’m going to do with all of these cookies.”

“There’s always the shelters,” Bucky said, “and I’m sure the rest of us can finish whatever you can’t give away.”

Sam bumped his right shoulder with Bucky’s metal one. “That’s not a bad idea,” he said.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, “all of Steve’s good ideas come from me.”

Sam smiled, and moved to get up, then helped Bucky up off the cold tiles. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he told Sam, “I think I’m going to bed though.” He grabbed a cookie off one of the trays and bit into it. 

“Hey,” Sam called after him, waited till Bucky turned around, “thanks for the talk.”

Bucky smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

This, as it turned out, was easy too.


End file.
